Black Hole

Liz Moughon
This part of the day, from sunset to bedtime, is special. Usually, I’m more excited for the daytime hours because it means time with coworkers. But I now spend the day working from the corner of my bedroom attempting productivity. Quarantine feels like I’m slipping into a black hole of loneliness and sluggishness. The evenings are my new favorite time because I escape outside, watch a documentary, dust off a photo book or write a letter. This space alone in my head is teaching me the value of what cannot be monetized. I used to think I needed more time to do more, but what I really need is each other again. My neighbor. My brother. You. July 13, 2020. Portland, OR.

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